


"A Great Miracle Happened There"

by Imanga



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jewish, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Challah braiding, Challah making, F/M, NaruHina Secret Santa 2020, Short One Shot, baking together, sunshine family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imanga/pseuds/Imanga
Summary: The Uzumaki family is invited to a Hannukah dinner but Naruto is having a hard time with the challah...A short one-shot written for Fretful-Ferret on Tumblr for the NaruHina Secret Santa 2020 event <3
Relationships: Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	"A Great Miracle Happened There"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fretful_ferret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fretful_ferret/gifts).



> Hello everyone!
> 
> Not my most inspired work, but after finding that my second Secret Santa was also Jewish, I really wanted to gift them with a Jewish-theme one-shot... Baby warning: for the sake of the plot, Iruka has a French Jewish wife.
> 
> Again, this is a married NaruHina fic, seems like this Holiday event got me all fired up with the Sunshine family 🎊

Iruka’s wife firmly grabbed two of her doughy strands, determined to teach them how it was done, and locked eyes with Boruto and Himawari who were sitting on the opposite side of the table.

“Okay so now, look well what I am doing.”

The two small children, zealously listening to her every word, anxiously nodded their little heads, their chubby fingers eager to start working. Slowly, Rébecca started expertly braiding her six rope-shaped pieces like only someone who had done it a thousand times before could, her watchful stare then following Boruto and Himawari’s every move to make sure that they were properly doing it. Replicating her actions, Naruto tried in turn to braid his baby Challah -in vain. This seemingly mundane activity was proving harder than one could have thought at first sight by just looking at Rébecca’s example: despite the flour Iruka had generously sprinkled all over the dinner table, the locks of dough adhered to the wooden surface and stuck to his fingers, unevenly stretching out each time he picked one to braid.

Naruto had never celebrated Hanukkah before. Hell, he hadn’t even ever _heard_ of the word Hanukkah before, so when Hinata, his wife, had started explaining it to their six-year-old son Boruto and his younger sister Himawari at the breakfast table that morning, he had listened just as closely as their children to what she had to say. Of course, if someone ever knew about those kinds of things, it was Hinata.

Naruto wasn’t too sure he had understood everything, though. His wife had mentioned a lot of stuff, like a temple being destroyed long ago when tigers used to smoke, and something about oil. Sesame oil? Nah, that didn’t make any sense. Oh, and also, he remembered her talking about a special chandelier. That was about it. 

Therefore, he wasn’t feeling his most confident self when his family and himself rang the doorbell of Iruka’s apartment later that day after a long stroll that had taken them through the gardens of the Palais-Royal, the art galleries of the deuxième arrondissement and the Palais Brongniart, before ending up on Boulevard Montmartre, where they had caught the métro back home.

It was their first time in Paris -and in France, for that matter-, a trip motivated only by Iruka’s recent relocation to the City of Lights a year ago, following his marriage to a citizen of the “good old” western continent, and their fourth time at the Umino’s place since their arrival, a rather small two-bedroom apartment located a stone’s throw away from the pedestrian street of Rue de Lévis, in between the Plaine-Monceau and the Batignolles districts. Hinata had stated the first time that the local area looked like a small village within the broader city; to be honest, Paris as a whole looked more like a conglomeration of small villages than a proper city in itself to Naruto, but he didn’t feel like contradicting his spouse.

He tried crossing two braids in what he believed was the same way as Rébecca’s earlier on, but for some reason, the more he worked on it, the monstrouser his Challah was growing. His cumbersome fingers were shredding to pieces the strands, disintegrating them more and more each time he picked them up, the warm contact of his skin melting them into thin layers of goo. 

He stared at his children’s work out of the corner of his eye. Damn it. Although quite rough-looking, their one-portion Challahs had actually been properly braided and they were now busy polishing the ends to make them look smooth, Iruka and Rébecca already bringing the egg yolk and the sesame seeds for everyone to apply the final touch before putting all their breads away in the oven. Damn, damn, damn.

Panic subtly started seizing his guts and, freaking out, he eyed the other adults’ compositions: obviously, Rébecca’s was looking impeccable, for she was the one who held all the Challah knowledge. Next to hers, Iruka’s also looked neat; you could definitely tell he had done it before. Naruto gazed upon his abomination, abashed. His bread looked like a jellyfish whose hat would have been smashed with a rock by an angry swimmer on some beach out there, its thick filaments dangling pitifully on the wooden sand of the table. Not exactly what Naruto would call an appetizing dish.

A small chuckle, followed by a light pressure on his bicep, held his attention and he turned to his right where Hinata, visibly amused by his creation, was seated. 

Of course, hers was looking impeccable. 

“Woah, yours looks great!” He complimented her quietly, genuinely impressed but keeping a low volume, unwilling to draw attention to his own failure.

Was there only a feat his wife couldn’t achieve?

A light shade of pink delicately colored her cheeks as she blushed at the unexpected praises, a timid smile on her lips. Naruto grinned back at her. Even though Hinata was now nearing her thirties, she still remained as humble and timorous as when she was twelve. And he liked that.

Leaning closer towards her husband, her chair scraping against the parquet as she brought it closer, she headed serenely for his challah, her long and thin snow-white fingers re-kneading the sloppy strands into six perfectly formed pieces ready to be assembled.

“Let me show you, Naruto-kun”, she offered. Naruto did not bat an eyelid. 

Hinata may have been on the quieter and more self-effacing side of things, when it came to the ways of the household, Naruto knew better than contradict her. She smiled at him, one of those caring and maternal smiles only her had the mastery of, and started arranging the locks around to braid the Challah.

“Look, it’s really easy, all you have to do is cross the dough like this and…”

But Naruto was already not listening anymore. 

One elbow on the table, his palm cupping his cheek and supporting his head, he was too busy mentally drawing her lovely features, indulging for a second in a spectacle he so rarely got to witness lately. Focused, resolute, her delicate brows slightly frowned by the effort, her cheeks reddened by the hyperawareness of her husband fixing her, the corners of her lips bent into a fond beam, Hinata never appeared to him as more beautiful and sexy than when she was perfectly captivated by her task at hand. 

He slyly slid his free hand on the top of the naked table sprinkled with lumps of wet and dry flour, nonchalantly aiming for a goal that was miles away from the present baking activity and smirk when he finally reached his target. Warm, tan-skinned fingers gently brushed against the ice of her marble ones and the contact made her actually quiver, Hinata dropping the strand of dough she was holding to instinctively retract her hand, her eyes widening in surprise. Naruto deadened a laugh. She was so easy to tease.

“Don’t you want to learn how to braid bread?” Playfully chided him Hinata once her astonishment had vanished. Naruto shook his head, a grin all over his radiant face.

“Well, seeing how great you were doing by yourself already, I figured out ‘Why bother?’”

Hinata tutted him, her eyes squeezing tight, her mouth dropping into an impish pout. 

“Oh, look how they are cute, Iruka!” Iruka’s wife’s broken Japanese pulled the couple out of their little bubble of carefreeness, eliciting deep waves of embarrassment on both their faces as they swiftly moved back from one another. “Why is it that you, you look me never this way?”

Behind them, in the open kitchen, Naruto heard Iruka ensure his own wife that he stared at her just the same and Rébecca left the table to join him, her loud teasing perfectly audible despite the distance. 

Still burning up from their little mishappening, Hinata promptly finished braiding Naruto’s Challah in an awkward silence, her lips retracted behind her teeth in a thin line. The six strands overlapping one another at one of their ends, she took the one at the farthest right and crossed it all over to the left, topping in the process the other pieces. Then, delicately grabbing the now second strand from the left, she brought it to the right and separated the four remaining locks into two distinct duos. First left strand to the middle. Second strand to the right to the left. First right strand in the middle. Second left strand to the right. First left strand to the middle. Second right strand to the left. 

She wasn’t even half-way through the locks, but Naruto could already see, admiring, the braid pattern printing itself in the loaf. He smiled proudly. Only Hinata could pick up that quickly on this type of things.

He suddenly noticed that they were alone, all the other Challahs around the table waiting for his to join them: well-shaped, still rising, the egg yolk giving them an oily texture, they all had been sprinkled with unroasted sesame seeds. Their children, long gone, were now too busy playing with Iruka and Rébecca’s Rusky Toy on the living room’s fluffy carpet. 

“Naruto-kun?” 

He hummed to signal Hinata that he had heard her and redirected his attention, his eyes lingering with concern for the poor creature his kids were abusing on the other side of the room.

She presented him the bowl containing what was left of the egg yolk and a brush and, noticing his puzzled expression, gave him an encouraging sign of the head.

“You must smear it with the egg, so it can get that nice, golden color and texture in the stove”, she explained to him kindly. His hand dawdled a little longer than needed over hers as he grabbed the bowl. Hinata rolled her eyes at her husband, blushing and, gauchely, he started pouring the slimy liquid all over his one-person Challah, slathering it as well as he could, doing his best to avoid little pools of egg to form in the crooks of the braid. 

He glanced at his wife, awaiting her approbation. She giggled, and dusted seeds all over the lump of brioche. All clear. 

“Are you finally done, Naruto?” Queried Iruka over the kitchen counter not far from them, still seemingly embarrassed by his wife’s earlier complaints.

“Yup! Bringing them right up, Iruka-sensei!”

“The children, come see!” Shouted Rébecca to Boruto and Himawari who were now trying to make the dog wear Himawari’s Hello Kitty plastic necklace. “Let’s put the Challahs in the oven!”

Naruto watched his kids dashed into the kitchen, weaving in and out between Iruka’s legs to thread their way to the stove. Seeing them so close to a source of heat, Hinata instinctively got up from her seat, anxious. 

“Boruto, Himawari, don’t stand so close to the oven!”

Soon, the six of them, crammed in the tiny space of the open kitchen demarcated by the counter, a crouching Hinata, hugging Boruto while Himawari settled in her father’s arms, her tiny hand gripping on his shirt tightly, the Uzumakis watched carefully as Iruka slid the Challahs that had been beforehand religiously organized on a baking tray in the over. 

“ _Mon chou_ , we should set up the table if you don’t want for us to eat too late!” 

Deserting the kitchen, the Uminos got away from the family, happily blabbing a few meters away in the living area, but neither Hinata and Boruto nor Naruto and Himawari moved, the two children too mesmerized by the view of the Challahs already almost imperceptibly rising.

Himawari extended a hand towards the oven, and Naruto squatted down next to his wife and son, a big smile blooming on his daughter’s face. The gentle heat radiating from the appliance warming up their faces, the dim light emanating through the glass door casting soft shadows on them. Naruto dropped Himawari on the ground, her little legs trembling for half a second under her weight before stabilizing again. “Look, Papa”, she whispered, enthralled. “The breads are growing!”

“Soon, they’ll be bigger than elephants!” Topped Boruto, extending his arms as wide as he could with grandiloquence to illustrate his words, both his parents and sister chuckling. 

But they were getting bigger, indeed. Slowly expanding, the crust of the loaves were browning and cracking under the heated heat of the convection over, the interstices between the braids retaining a semblance of the off-white the entire breads once arbored. 

Squeezing his little one against his chest, he gave Hinata a sidelong look, immediately rewarded by her shy smile.

“Isn’t it nice?” He lipped, and she gently agreed, her light giggle mixing with the emanations of Challahs and filling the air. Innocently, he moved his hand on the cold, wooden floor, his fingers soon finding Hinata and climbing back up along her side before resting on the small of her back, his thumb drawing circles on her skin over the thick material of her sweater. In the arm that held his daughter tight, he felt Himawari quiver, her nostrils trembling with eagerness. Surely, she couldn’t wait to taste her work.

Behind them, the Uminos had turned off the electric lamps and lighted a multitude of candles, illuminating the room with a thousand of dancing little glows, their flickering gleam diffusing a subtle peace all around them as the little family kept on watching the Challahs bake. Crouching in the kitchen, the oven and candles for only lights, Naruto and Hinata kept on waiting for the breads with their children, serene. 

Soon, they would sit down to dinner and enjoy the traditional Hannukah delicacies that were the latkes eaten with applesauce and sour cream, Rébecass’s overcooked brisket and kugel au gratin, followed by sufganiyot filled with jam. After dinner, Naruto would lay on the couch with Hinata in his arms and chat with Iruka while Rébecca and the children would be playing some top game for chocolates way too fancy and expensive for small kids to enjoy, before gathering in front of the window stand and watch as Boruto and Himawari lit the third candle of the Menorah. They would finish the night by opening the gifts Iruka and Rébecca had gotten the children but, for now, the family of four just stood there in front of the oven, watching the Challahs bake, a great miracle happening in the stove before their eyes as their silent chatter enlightened the night, holy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this!
> 
> The title, "A great miracle happened there" is a reference to the four Hebrew letters written on the dreidel (nun, gimel, hei and shin) and that are supposed to be a reference to the quote "A great miracle happened there" about the miracle of the lasting oil. The dreidel game is a popular game to play around Hannukah, especially with children 🥰
> 
> At first, I had thought about having Naruto and Hinata making Hannukah's emblematic latkes but after writing about half of it, I remembered how much messy and stinky cooking latkes could get: oil splashing everywhere, the distinctive smell of fried oil sticking to your clothes, skin and hair... Not exactly the most romantic thing ever! So I switched to Challah braiding, a way cleaner activity!
> 
> Although the probably most prominent of all the numerouuuuuus Jewish holidays there is out there, Hannukah isn't my favorite one: I'm the only one in my direct family who chose to _vaguely_ be Jewish and since I don't live anywhere near them or my partner, I usually celebrate it with a couple of other lonely Jewish girlfriends (which consists of making latkes and solely latkes and eating them in front of TV before exchanging gifts lol). However, in the past, I got to hold a couple of really traditional Hannukah dinners for my foreign friends and colleagues when studying or working abroad and those were the best! I love sharing my heritage with others 🥰
> 
> Is _Rebecca_ a common name in your country? I chose it cause my parents hesitated for quite some time between this one and my actual first name, and because it's considered super Jewish where I live.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading again, and a Happy New Year to everyone!
> 
> Ps: the walk throughout the first and second arrondissements of Paris is one I actually recommend doing when visiting the French capital, for it's a nice alternative to the more traditional options while still remaining in the touristy districts!


End file.
